


daylight could be so violent

by panoptykon



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, martin no longer needs a good shake and it's a high time everyone accepted that, post-164
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23899906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panoptykon/pseuds/panoptykon
Summary: 'You really don't deserve it. But of course - you know that already!'Helen's words linger in Jon's mind. Martin has a few things to say on the subject.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 4
Kudos: 160





	daylight could be so violent

With no doors in sight, there is no way but forward. That is, if directions even mean anything in this fearful new world. Jon isn’t sure anymore. There are many things he isn’t sure of, really. One would think an eerie omniscience entails a disposal of uncertainty. Or maybe the problem is precisely that he is certain, _really_ certain. Every anxious thought he’s harbored, every self-inflicted mental wound come to a new, cruel light. A light that darkens every solacing shadow of a doubt. She was right, of course. He doesn’t deserve it and he knows it, sees it more clearly than ever, and it might feel even worse than looking directly into the sun, the sun crashes into him now, scorching him mercilessly with an all-embracing insight into his own wretched self...

‘J-Jon, what’s going on, what’s wrong?’ A voice snaps him out of it. It’s a warm voice, but there’s no singe to it. He takes a deep breath, not quite ready to speak yet, but capable of a calming, if vague, gesture. ‘Hey, hey… It’s alright, I’m here… We’re alright. Just… sit down, okay? I’ll get the thermos.’

He can hear the nervous rustling, the clanking of metal, the pouring of liquid. He lowers himself onto the ground and feels the cold, firm soil under his palms.

‘Have some tea, alright? I’m not sure if it’s still warm, we have been walking for quite a while, but I still think it will do you some good.’

‘Thank you, Martin.’ It’s hoarse and strained, but still so painfully fond. He takes the cup and slowly raises it to his lips.

‘Are you… okay?’ He can feel the shame in Martin’s voice, he can feel him kick himself internally for a question like that. He won’t allow it.

‘Yes, it’s… I’m fine. Better.’ Jon answers reassuringly. It doesn’t take much effort - all he has to do is look into Martin’s earnest eyes, and it really is fine, better.

‘What happened?’

‘It’s… I just did a little too much knowing, is all.’ He lets out a faint chuckle, hoping it will soothe Martin’s nerves and help him avoid further questions. Martin would jump at the occasion to comfort Jon, to deny Jon’s wrongdoings, to rid Jon of the blemish that so evidently defines him. Jon doesn’t deserve these consoling falsehoods, and Martin doesn’t deserve to be put in that position. If Jon knows anything (and he knows quite a lot), it’s that.

‘It’s the Helen thing, isn’t it?’ Of course he knows. He knows Jon better than anyone, no eldritch powers required. Escaping Martin’s sight is not an option for Jon, and usually, it brings him bliss. Now it just makes him feel like an encumbrance. ‘Look, Jon…’

‘Please, Martin, can we not do this?’ It’s more harsh than he intended, but he is desperate to stop Martin’s misplaced consolation in its tracks. The burden can only be so heavy.

‘Alright, alright. It’s just... I thought you’d _know_.’

‘Yes, I do know. That’s why there’s no point of discussing it further.’

‘Then why are you upset?’ Jon’s not sure if any compulsion could be more successful than the innocent fervence Martin exhibits.

‘Because I don’t deserve it and I know it! And, what’s worse, I take no actions that this knowledge should encourage me to take! I just keep basking in what I don’t deserve and I don’t fight it. And you… I make you feel like you have to accommodate me in this-this haven of unearned devotion! And I don’t want that. I want _you_ to decide what’s good for _you_. I want you to get what you deserve.’

‘Oh, love…’ Martin sighs heavily, and reaches out his hand to gently stroke Jon’s cheek. His other hand covers Jon's own, and it's soft, way too soft, considering the post-apocalyptic shortage of quality lotions. ‘I love you. I have loved you for so, so long, and I never want to stop. Who’s anyone to say that you don’t deserve it? It’s my love. And I’m not an idiot. I don’t need to be told your worth by anyone. I honestly don’t know what you deserve or what I deserve. I don’t really want to. You’re the love of my life, and you’ve never given me a reason to try to fight it.’ Jon has witnessed Martin smoothly climb the heights of assertiveness, but this is a new quality. It's as if Martin has just expressed a deep, guttural truth, as if he has never been more sure of anything in his life.

‘Well, that last part’s debatable.’ Jon manages to chuckle through tears, tears that have appeared so embarrassingly quickly he didn’t even have a chance to try to suppress them. Martin moves his hands to Jon’s cheeks and wipes them with an almost torturous tenderness.

‘It’s really not. And I wish everyone would stop forcing their opinions of you on me. You included. I command you - yes, command - to admit that I. know. better.’ Martin’s tone is scolding, but his eyes reveal a playful glint. He presses their foreheads together, still cradling Jon's cheeks, not letting go.

‘I love you so much.’ Jon’s whispered declaration sounds way too close to a strangled cry than he would be comfortable with. Luckily, any lingering self-consciousness is dissolved when Martin’s lips come close to his own. It begins as the softest of touches, but it is a fiery kind of softness, one Jon’s never experienced before. It is not a flame that burns, but it is a flame, alright. And Jon is glad that there are still things he’s yet to learn.

**Author's Note:**

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